The Adventures of a Prat and His Idiot
by theAnonymousParadox
Summary: A collection of one-shots (no slash). Chapter 4: Arthur has returned, as prophesied, but where is Merlin? And what has happened to him? Will anything ever be the same? And how can Arthur and Merlin complete their destiny now?
1. I Won't Make the Same Mistake Again

**Author's Note:**

**Sorry. I haven't edited it. I'm kinda sick right now and drowning in make-up work, so I really don't have time to revise it. And since this is one of the more...bleh...oneshots, I'm really no interested in it at the moment. But I will get around to editing. One day.**

**Leave any nit-picky things you find in a review! It'll really help me out:)**

* * *

"I still can't believe how lucky I was," Arthur commented. "I owe that boy my life and…I don't know who he was or where he's from. We need to make sure we give him a decent burial," he said, addressing his servant.

Merlin glanced at him, thinking about the young boy, Daegal. He had been so young and naïve. He almost reminded him of himself, in fact. The poor boy had gone through so much in his lifetime, and when he had finally made a friend, done something he was proud of, he was killed by a dagger – a dagger meant for Merlin. It just wasn't fair.

"I'll do that," Merlin agreed, bringing the royals their dinner, "if you'd allow me the time."

"Oh, so you can go and visit that girl again?" the king teased. He saw Guinevere send a warning glance at him, but he dismissed it. The idea of making fun of Merlin was simply too much fun. He could finally seek his revenge for all of those times said manservant teased him about his queen.

"What?"

"The _girl_," Arthur drawled out, smiling mischievously at his friend.

"Don't have one," Merlin sighed, hobbling over to get the pitcher of wine. He should know that better than anyone. For a moment, Merlin thought that Arthur had meant Freya and he was hit by an irrational sense of hope. Had Freya come back? Was she alive? How had Arthur known?

"That's not what Guinevere tells me," Arthur protested.

Ah.

Merlin turned around and glanced at the queen, letting the coldness show in his eyes. He saw her send another glance at Arthur, then she turned to Merlin, smiling pleasantly, but her eyes didn't express the warmth that usually came with a smile like that. Her eyes were empty, cold, warning.

Alright, Merlin could play this game. He played it for over a year with Morgana. He was already an expert. He could handle this. But he wasn't going to let Gwen slip through his fingers. He was going to bring her back, show her the light. He was not going to fail her, like he did with Morgana. He couldn't lose her.

"So," Arthur said, breaking Merlin away from his thoughts, "why don't you tell us all about her?"

Merlin poured wine into Arthur's goblet, then made his way over to Gwen, giving her the coldest look her could muster while in Arthur's presence.

"Right," he said.

"…and why you're walking with a limp," Arthur added.

"What's her name, Merlin?" Gwen asked.

A torrent of fire flashed through his eyes, startling Gwen, though she caught herself before she flinched. Merlin schooled his expression, then glanced back at Arthur, who was looking at him expectantly. He backed up against the wall, leaning against it and trying to ignore the throbbing in his leg while managing to look like a proper servant.

He thought about how to answer Gwen's question, but ended up with, "Freya. Her name was Freya."

For a moment, there was a flicker of shock in Gwen's eyes, for she heard for herself the waver in Merlin's voice and the sadness and wistfulness in his eyes. He wasn't lying. She found herself leaning forward, wanting to know more. Merlin had once had a girl? Maybe she and Morgana could use this for their advantage.

Arthur himself noticed the sheer honesty in his manservant's words and blinked. He had never really considered his friend having a girl. Maybe one day, in the future, but certainly not now. He was just too… Merlin. Besides, what girl would fall for Merlin?

"What is she like?" the king asked. He was happy for Merlin. The man needed something like this. Even though he had never said it out loud, he understood that Merlin's life could be stressful at times. When the idiot wasn't at the tavern, of course.

Merlin sighed, keeping his emotions inside him. He couldn't afford to let them show. Not here, not now. This wasn't the time. "She was…beautiful. The prettiest girl I've ever seen. Sorry, my lady," he added to Gwen. She simply smiled again and nodded. "She was kind and strong. She understood me…and I could be…myself around her. I had nothing to fear. Nothing to hide. I – I loved her."

Arthur's eyebrows kept going up and up and up. Merlin? In love? The idea was laughable! But here he was, telling them about her, and the king could not deny the honesty in this man's eyes. The man who was in love. Was.

"What happened?" Arthur asked gently.

Merlin swallowed, staring at the floor. "She was killed…a long time ago."

Arthur's mouth dropped open. Dead? The love of Merlin's life was dead? Killed? Murdered? The man was much stronger than Arthur gave him credit for. If his Guinevere was killed, he wouldn't know what he would do. But maybe this was the reason why Merlin hadn't quite been himself as of late.

"How long ago was this, Merlin?" Gwen asked gently.

"Maybe four…five years ago. It's been a while," Merlin replied. "I was honoring her and her family. That's why I was absent from my duties. I'm sorry. I was just…" he trailed off, but Arthur didn't notice. He was in shock.

Merlin's girl was murdered years ago? How had he not noticed. Certainly something like that would have driven the man into depression at least for a little while. Merlin wasn't that strong…was he?

"Who killed her?" he found himself asking. He knew it was a little insensitive, but he didn't care. He was angry on Merlin's behalf. He wanted this sick, twisted murderer found and dead. How dare he put Merlin through this pain?

But Merlin shook his question off. "It doesn't matter. It was a long time ago."

Gwen stood and offered Merlin a small smile, then turned to her husband. "I do hope you'll forgive me, but I have a few duties to attend to. And Merlin," she said, before turning to leave, "I am so sorry for your loss. Just know you're not alone. You'll be together again."

Merlin narrowed his eyes at the threat, but was grateful when she left. His knees were becoming weak, his limbs felt heavy, and his head felt waterlogged. He found that if he moved his head too quickly, the world would tip slightly. His wound felt slightly warm, too, signaling the onset of an infection. Dammit.

Merlin let out a surprised huff of breath when his legs gave out from underneath him, and his slid to the floor, dropping the thankfully empty pitcher of wine as he did so.

Arthur looked up at the sound and remembered the last time he'd heard it, all those years ago at the Hallow's Eve Feast, right before the incident with the Dorocha. Merlin had dropped his pitcher, silencing the whole hall, then proceeded to fall to the floor with shuddering breaths. His eyes had been so lifeless, his skin so pale. It had scared Arthur more than he cared to admit, yet he had to stand by and do nothing, being the regent. Now he was king and he was alone, so, dammit, if he wanted to go and help his servant and make sure he was alright, he would.

Arthur stood up, and looked over to where Merlin was sitting on the floor, back leaning against the wall. He was blinking, seemingly trying to get his eyes to work properly while his shaking hands were searching for something in his jacket pocket. He was horridly pale, and had a faint grimace, like he was about to be sick.

"Merlin?" Arthur asked tentatively. "Are you alright? You're not about to die on me, are you?"

He didn't answer. Instead, he found what he was looking for, and pulled out a vial from his pocket that was filled with clear liquid. He uncorked the small bottle and forced it down his throat. His hand collapsed to his side, as though too weak to do much more, and he leaned his head back on the wall, staring up at the ceiling while a few violent shudders ran through him.

"Merlin?" the king asked again, worry beginning to set in. What was that black smudge on the side of his mouth? "Merlin, what's wrong? Should I fetch Gaius?"

"No," Merlin groaned, struggling to his feet. Arthur came over and offered a helping hand, guiding him over to the seat right of his own. "I'm fine. I – just – _really_ need to talk to you. _Right_ now."

Arthur was about to tease him, to lighten the situation by using an old line of his,_ You don't get it Merlin, do you? _I_ decide when we need to talk_, but he refrained when he saw the deadly serious look in the man's eye. This situation didn't need lightening. It was serious. Whatever Merlin was about to tell him was not to be taken lightly.

"What is it?" Arthur asked, settling himself into his seat at the head of the table.

"I need to tell you where I really was for the past couple of days."

The king sent him a look of confusion. "You just told me. Or did you make all of that up?" If that was the case, then the king was impressed; he didn't realize just how good of an actor Merlin was.

But Merlin shook his head. "No, it was true. All of it. Just the part about leaving to honor her was a lie. I'm sorry. I had to, Arthur."

"So…where have you been?" he asked, getting slightly suspicious.

"The Valley of the Fallen Kings."

"The Valley of the Fallen Kings?" Arthur repeated in confusion. "I was under the impression that you detested the place. Why were you there?"

"I was tricked. A few nights ago, a young boy snuck into the castle and sought me out. He told me he needed me that his sister was ill with the sweating sickness and that I was the only one who could help him because he was a Druid. He was untrusting of the Official Court Physician. So I agreed to go with him the next morning. We made the journey, but it was a trap. He wasn't a Druid. He was a poor boy who needed money, something Morgana could give him."

"Morgana?" Arthur asked, feeling himself go cold.

"Yes. She was there, waiting for me. She attacked me and poisoned me."

"Why would she go after you?" Arthur asked.

"I – I – well…" Merlin trailed off, not quite sure where to go with this. He figured he should stick to the truth as much as possible without giving away his identity as a warlock. "I've meddled in her plans a lot. For example, remember the time, right after we found her when she went missing, the army of the undead attacked? The skeleton warriors? Your father claimed that Morgana snuck down under the castle and destroyed the source of the enchantment. But she was the one who planted it there, she was there _protecting_ it…"

Slowly, comprehension dawned on the young king. Merlin was the one who "single handedly turned the tides of the battle." Merlin had been the true hero. He had stood there and watched as his enemy was praised, took all the credit. That's why Merlin had mysteriously vanished that night.

"You…you destroyed it," said Arthur, staring at his manservant. He was so tall and thin, still with those big ears. It was silly to think of the clumsy man as a hero.

Merlin simply nodded. "I did. She still hold a grudge for that, along with other things, but the point is, she tricked Daegal – the Druid – and myself, and nearly killed me…again."

Ignoring that last part, Arthur asked, "How did you get away?"

"Daegal took pity on me, and helped. He prepared a tincture that saved my life."

"I see that we both owe the boy our lives, then."

Merlin sighed, looking down at the table for a minute. After a moment, Arthur was surprised to see his eyes harden, and he raised his head to look up at the king. "When I woke up, he told me who was responsible. It was indeed Morgana, as I had reasoned, but she had an accomplice. The accomplice is here, Arthur, within these castle walls."

"Is the accomplice the same person who tried to poison me?" Arthur asked.

Merlin gulped, looking extremely nervous. "Yes, sire. The very same."

"Who, then?"

There was a pause, then Merlin leaned forward, resting his elbows on the wooden table. "Arthur, have you noticed anything of Gwen as of late? Does she seem…different to you?"

Arthur's first response was confusion as to why the hell Merlin would be bringing up his wife right then. His second response was no, Guinevere was as beautiful and kind as ever. But then, he considered it. He couldn't deny that his wife had seemed more pushy as of late, but he figured that was only because she wanted to protect him, offer him advice, and she was usually right anyway. But then there were also the looks on her face, when she thought no one was looking. She would have this scowl, like she was greatly irritated. Arthur traced it back to…

"Well, I suppose. Ever since the – "

"Dark Tower," Merlin supplied.

"But she had lost her brother, her only family, Merlin. I think it's perfectly acceptable to be slightly different when dealing with grief such as that."

"Arthur," Merlin said slowly, looking at him, "Gwen would never allow something like that to change her permanently. She was locked in the Dark Tower alone…with _Morgana_."

Arthur stared at his servant as the weight of his words hit the king. No, no. It couldn't be. Merlin was mistaken. He had to be…

"Merlin," Arthur said coldly, "You do realize you speak treason?"

"And I wouldn't unless I was absolutely sure!" Merlin protested. "You said Gwen told you that I was out seeing a girl! I wasn't! I only told Gaius that I was helping the Druid boy! Please, Arthur, you have to believe me!"

"Guinevere would never have us poisoned, Merlin," Arthur said, "no matter what we'd done. She's not that kind of person."

Arthur was getting impatient while Merlin was growing desperate. It was imperative that the king believed him! Gwen could prove just as dangerous, if not even more so, than Morgana.

"No, she wouldn't," Merlin agreed. "That's why I believe Gwen is enchanted. She'd never do something like this."

Arthur rubbed his forehead. "Do you have any proof, Merlin?"

Merlin bit his lip, thinking. "Come to the Darkling Woods, tomorrow, at midnight. She's going to meet Morgana there, I'm sure of it."

Arthur looked about ready to burst from anger, but before he could so much as say a word, Merlin interrupted him.

"Arthur, I know how ludicrous this must sound, but I don't want to make the same mistake I made with Morgana. I knew of her betrayal, but I kept silent, hoping that I could show her the light. Because of my foolishness, she almost took Camelot for herself. Gwen may be your wife, Arthur, but she's also my friend. I don't want to see her hurt. Please, Arthur, I'm begging you. For _once_ in your life, just – listen to me!"

Arthur saw the sheer desperation in Merlin's eyes, the helplessness. He knew the man was telling the truth, but that didn't mean he had to like it. But Arthur had been through too much. Everyone seemed to have a knack for betraying him – his father, Agravaine, Lancelot, Morgana, even his own wife, and if Merlin was telling the truth, this would make it the second time she'd betrayed him. Merlin seemed to be the only one he could really trust, the one who had stuck by him through absolutely everything. If Arthur couldn't trust Merlin's judgment, then who could he trust?

Once again, he looked into the fear-filled eyes of his servant. The poor man was frightened not of, but for him. He really believed that Guinevere was enchanted and dangerous. He seemed to be pleading with Arthur, begging him to believe him.

He remembered back to dinner, the glares that his wife and his servant had exchanged. Merlin looked as though he hated her for a second, while Guinevere seemed to be teasing him, and now that Arthur had this new piece of information, he could piece everything together. Guinevere was amused at Merlin's inability to do anything because of his status. Merlin couldn't go gallivanting around the castle, screaming about how the queen was a minion of Morgana. Such acts could end Merlin up at the chopping block. Guinevere was under the impression that she had the upper hand, the advantage. She felt that she was invincible.

He also remembered her smiles at Merlin. To anyone else, they would've thought the smiled perfectly warm and radiant, but now, Arthur realized that the smile never quite reached her eyes. Her eyes remained cold while her face formed a smile.

The evidence was staring the king in the face, and he couldn't deny it. Perhaps his wife was enchanted. She would surely never do this by her own free will. Arthur was the man she loved, and Merlin was her best friend. She'd sooner die than do anything to hurt them.

So Arthur looked Merlin square in the eye. "You'd better be right about this, Merlin, because if you aren't…"

"Actually, I'm kind of hoping I _am_ wrong…"

Arthur allowed for a small smile to grace his lips as he looked at his servant, the man he considered to be his greatest friend. He had never had a true friend before Merlin. In fact, he was closer to Merlin than any of the Knights, whom he had fought battles with, the men he trusted above all others.

Except for Merlin.

The man was so ridiculously loyal, and Arthur wouldn't trade their friendship for the world. He would die for Merlin, as Merlin would for him. He had proven himself time and time again, much more than Guinevere, though it pained him to admit it.

He smiled fondly at his friend as he helped him stand. "Now come on, you idiot. Let's get you to Gaius."

"But – "

"Merlin?"

"Yes?"

"Shut up."

* * *

**Author's Note:**

**That was cute to revisit:) God, how I miss Merlin. If I get twenty reviews for this oneshot, I'll upload the second one early! :) I like reviews. Even flames. Flames are pretty:)**

**~theAnonymousParadox**


	2. Aren't You Forgetting Something?

**A/N: Sorry, guys. I would've had this up last night, but over here in California, we had a bunch of little, but noticeable, earthquakes. But, you see, for the past twenty years, scientists have been telling us over and over again that we're do for "The Big One," so every time there's an earthquake down here, we take it seriously and completely panic for a moment, thinking that that is the earthquake is gonna kill us all.  
**

**But we're all fine. A few minor injuries, a few smashed bottles, and some smashed windows, but nothing major. Now on with the fic!  
**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the characters or the show.  
Rating: K+ (light swearing)  
Characters: Arthur, Merlin  
Pairings: Arwen  
Warnings: swearing, not heavy, though  
Title: Aren't You Forgetting Something?  
Summary: Merlin really hated Gaius at the moment. An aging spell and a ritual to summon the White Goddess? Was the man out of his mind? Speaking of which, he really was tired. Exhausted, in fact. So, so very…tired… Takes place during "All My Heart."**

* * *

"You have my word."

Merlin was pretty sure that Arthur had been the one to say that, but he wasn't quite sure. Perhaps it was Gwen? Or Mordred? Or maybe he had been the one to say that. He didn't know, and honestly, he couldn't quite bring himself to care.

He stood there, watching the others start to walk off, or at least he tried to. The world was spinning so badly and his vision was so blurry, it was very hard to discern what was going on around him. He saw the others turn around to look at him one more time before heading off again. Merlin was vaguely insulted that they didn't even bothered to go look for "the gangly boy " or even ask about him, but he shook the thought from his head. This offered him an even better advantage.

Once he was sure he could no longer see the blue of Gwen's dress, Merlin stumbled over where he had left his bag. Collapsing against the rocks, he pulled the dress off of him to reveal his normal clothing, stuffed that dreadful dress back into his satchel, then drank the rest of the potion that transformed him back into a young man.

He breathed a sigh as the strain left his body. He leaned against the cold stone behind him and marveled at how heavy his limbs felt. The fog in his brain started to swirl, and moments later, he was completely consumed by it.

* * *

Arthur comforted his wife as she whispered apologies and confessed things she had done that betrayed her people and her husband.

"Guinevere," he purred, pulling her close as the horses came into sight. "I blame you for none of that. I blame only the witch, Morgana."

Guinevere looked as if she were on the verge of sobbing. She took a shaky breath. "That may be so, but all I know is that I betrayed you once, and I betrayed you again, and I will never forgive myself."

By this time, they had reached the horses, and he stopped, grabbed her gently by the shoulders, and looked into her warm brown eyes.

"No one blames you," said the king sternly. "And you shouldn't either."

Beside them, Mordred averted his eyes as husband and wife passionately embraced each other. Instead, he cast his eyes back toward the cauldron, a worried crease forming between his eyes. It had been an hour since they had left Dolma – or rather, Merlin – and he had still not returned to them. He, being a magic user himself, knew what he had done and how exhausting it had been. If any other had done it in his place, they would have been dead simply from the strain. Was Merlin to exhausted to come to them? Should they go and look for them? Surely not, Emrys could take care of himself, right?

Right, but _Merlin_ couldn't.

That thought snapped the young knight to attention, the worry now evident upon his features. He turned to the monarchs whose foreheads were pressed together lovingly, the king whispering something to his queen. He bit back the urge to roll his eyes and said,

"I apologize, but Merlin's not back yet."

Arthur and Gwen instantly broke apart, their expressions identical looks of worry and alarm. The queen turned to her husband, nothing but concern showing in her eyes.

"Do you think something's happened to him?" she asked.

Arthur took a steadying breath. "Knowing his luck, maybe. We should look for him. Mordred, you go over that way and search for the bumbling fool. Guinevere, come with me."

"It will be easier if we split up and look for him," she interjected. "You look over that way and I'll look over here."

Arthur looked uncomfortable. "But the sorceress – "

"She brought me back Arthur, I seriously doubt she means any of us any harm. If she had, then we would already be dead. All of us. She certainly has the power, don't you agree, Arthur?"

Arthur smiled warmly. "Insightful as ever, my queen. Alright, we meet back at this spot in an hour's time."

The knight and the queen nodded and the three of them split up, calling out their missing friend's name.

Eventually, Gwen made it back to the cauldron itself. She stared out into the dark waters for a moment, remembering her time enchanted by Morgana. It had started back in the Dark Tower. Those visions of the people she loved taunted her, tortured her mind, and slowly, she felt her sanity slipping away until there was nothing but an empty shell. Slowly, that shell filled with hate and greed. Her mind was set with one thought, and on thought only: to serve Morgana, her old friend.

So, she did. The details were a bit fuzzy, and there were parts of time that were missing from her memory, but as Arthur had assured her, it was not her fault. The fault lay with Morgana, and Morgana only.

Sighing, she turned and stumbled around some large boulder and –

"Merlin!" she gasped.

Hiking up her dress, she ran over to where he lay, pale and still, grasping a satchel. He was far too pale to simply be asleep, and his chest - was it moving?

Kneeling next to him, she placed a hand on his chest and shook him gently. She let out a sigh of relief as his thin chest rose and fell slowly with breath. She smacked his face lightly, trying to get him to rouse.

"Merlin?" she called gently but loudly.

"Mmph," he muttered, turning his head away from her touch, but he did not wake.

Gwen sat back on her haunches, something a lady in her standing should never do – no matter what – but at the moment, she couldn't bring herself to care. In front of her was one of her oldest friend, unconscious and seemingly barely alive.

Looking around for the old sorceress, she stood and made her way back out from behind the boulders. Cupping her hands over her mouth to increase the sound, she shouted,

"Arthur! Mordred! I've found Merlin! I need help!"

A few moments later, the young knight, Mordred came scurrying over to her, looking almost frantic. He leapt over rocks and boulders and made his way over to his queen.

"You've found E – Merlin? Where is he? Is he alright?" he asked.

Gwen raised an eyebrow at Mordred's worry. She had had the impression that the two weren't all that fond of each other. But she answered him nonetheless.

"He's alive. I'm not quite sure about fine, though…," she replied. "He's over here," she added, gesturing to Merlin's general direction. Mordred started at a trot towards Merlin's prone form just as Gwen spotted Arthur running over, trying to mask his worried expression and failing spectacularly.

"Where's Merlin?" he asked, cutting right to the chase. Without waiting for an answer, he pushed past her and made his way over to where Mordred was attempting to shake the secret warlock awake. When he laid eyes on the unconscious manservant, he turned a shade paler. He quickened his pace.

Gwen trailed after him, her worried eyes glued to her friend. "I found no trace of an injury on him that might have caused this…," she said as Arthur knelt next to Mordred who had given up the quest to wake the young man and had moved on to examining him.

"The old crone," growled Arthur. "She did something to him."

"There is no sign of magic," Mordred disagreed. "Whatever spell she placed on him is no longer in effect."

"And how could you possibly know that?" Arthur asked, slightly fiercer than he mean to.

"The Druids made sure to teach us such things," Mordred replied. He was now feeling the back of the warlock's head. "This is the result of exhaustion. He obtained a concussion when he fell of the ledge."

"What?" Gwen gasped.

"The next day, he was forced to carry many full packs and distract Morgana," Mordred continued. "He needs rest."

"He will wake up," said Arthur, though it sounded more like a question.

Mordred was silent for a moment. "I am not as skilled as Gaius, nor Merlin, for that matter, so I'm afraid I cannot say."

"You said he was only suffering from exhaustion, surely that won't – kill him?" said Arthur, sounding frustrated.

"I am afraid…the spell that the Dolma cast to keep him asleep did a number on his body. It is not impossible for him body to…shut down," Mordred said uncomfortably. He glanced back down at Merlin, foolish Merlin who had cast an aging spell and summoned the White Goddess at the same time. Technically, he shouldn't be alive, so Mordred wouldn't be surprised if he faded away by daybreak. But he was Emrys, destined to stand by The Once and Future as they ushered in the age of peace and prosperity. He couldn't die now.

Right?

* * *

Arthur sat back on his haunches as he heard his knight say those words. He ran a hand through his hair, feeling frustrated and helpless. Merlin couldn't go like this. The stupid servant had been through too much to leave Arthur now. No, Arthur wouldn't let it happen. Merlin would be alright. He would recover and then receive a speech from Arthur about self-preservation.

Taking a steadying breath, get stood back up. He glanced toward the horizon where half of the sun could be seen. He looked back at his knight and his servant.

"He'll be alright, Arthur," whispered Gwen, entwining her hand through his. "He always is."

Arthur shut his eyes for a brief moment and nodded, turning back to his wife. After a gentle kiss on her forehead, he said,

"You're right of course." He then turned back to his servant and gathered him up into his arms, then proceeded to sling him over his shoulder. Though the young man had gained a few pounds over the years, he was still far too light for Arthur's liking. "We'll go find the horses and make camp for the night. We'll return to Camelot in the morning."

And with that, they started their silent march to their horses, the air heavy with anxiety for their unconscious friend.

* * *

Merlin awoke to darkness.

That's what scared him. Had he died? How had that happened? And what about Arthur?

Arthur!

He sat bolt upright, something warm and soft rolling off his body. As he straightened up, he gasped and clutched his head, realizing that sitting up hadn't been the brightest idea. But at least he knew one thing: if the headache and heaviness in his limbs was anything to go by, he was alive.

"Merlin?"

He attempted to answer the voice in the darkness, but only a groan escaped his throat. The muscles in his back started to spasm and a moment later, they gave out, sending Merlin back down to the ground, laying down and staring at the stars above him.

"Merlin!" said that voice again. He felt someone shake him by his shoulders and panicked as he realized he couldn't see them nor the stars.

"C'mon, Merlin, wake up," said that voice again.

Oh, right. His eyes were closed. Of course.

Slowly, he cracked his eyelids open and saw the vague outline of a familiar prattish king hovering over him.

"A-Arthur?" he croaked.

It appeared as if he smiled, but it was too dark for Merlin to tell. The king patted his shoulder. "There you go, Merlin."

"What – what happened?" asked Merlin confusedly. "Where am I?"

"What's the last thing you remember?" Arthur asked, and there was a slight undertone of worry in his voice.

Merlin frowned and thought for a moment. "Morgana attacking Mordred and I…and…" His frown became a scowl and the pounding in his head became even more painful as he tried to remember the events after the attack. He knew something important happened after that, he just couldn't for the life of him remember what.

"What about the Dolma?" Arthur questioned, trying to push him along.

Then Merlin winced at the memories that had come rushing back to him. The aging spell, the White Goddess, how utterly exhausting it had been. All he wanted to do was sleep for the rest of eternity. His destiny could eat it.

Nevertheless, he raised hazy eyes to his king and nodded feebly.

"I remember."

"What happened after you went to find her? Did she hurt you?" Arthur asked quickly now that Merlin had remembered.

Merlin gave a weak laugh. "You almost sound worried, Arthur," he teased.

Arthur's worried expression dropped into a scowl, but Merlin could see the relief in his friend's eyes that Merlin was okay enough to be teasing him.

"I am not worried!" Arthur said and he cringed at how that sounded like an absolute lie. Which it was.

"Why so defensive, sire?"

"Merlin?"

"Yes, my lord?"

"Shut – "

"Up, got it."

"And answer my question."

Merlin frowned, not remembering Arthur asking any questions. Probably the effects of that stupid concussion.

"What question?"

"What did that old crone do to you?" asked the king.

Merlin blinked. "I – I don't remember. I think she only put a sleeping spell on me, but…I couldn't say for sure. But there's one thing I do remember clearly."

Arthur raised an eyebrow at Merlin's now slightly hurt and reproachful expression. "And what would that be?"

Merlin glanced up and said in a voice that did not at all sound the least bit hurt, "You left me."

And there it was. What was it about the servants of Camelot that made them so special? How did they always manage to humble Arthur? How was it that they planted themselves firmly in Arthur's heart – one as his wife and the other as his little brother?

And why, oh, why did Merlin have to look at him like that? He looked so small and helpless, like a child. And the betrayal on his face tore at Arthur's heart. Merlin had always looked out after Arthur, and the one time Arthur needed to do the same for Merlin, he left him at the mercy of a sorceress he barely even knew. The poor man must have been terrified.

If Arthur, king of Camelot couldn't even look after his servant properly – dammit, his friend – how could he be trusted to look after his kingdom?

And looking down upon his pitiful friend, Arthur felt a pang of guilt stab at his heart. It must've shown on his face because Merlin's expression morphed into one of surprise and slight guilt.

Guilt? What the _hell_ did _Merlin_ have to be guilty for?

"Merlin…," said Arthur in a serious voice. "I – I'm sorry."

Merlin blinked, surprised, and broke into a tentative grin. Then he craned his neck around, trying to get a good look at his surroundings.

"Where are we? What of Gwen?" he asked as Arthur pressed him back down to rest.

"We're where we left the horses. After the Dolma cleansed Gwen, we turned back to look for you. We found you unconscious by the cauldron and we brought you back here. Mordred's here too," replied Arthur.

"So Gwen's alright?" Merlin asked, a smile lighting up his features.

"Yes, I have no desire to kill Arthur," said a voice. There were footsteps and the outline of Gwen came over, smiling down at her friend. "Merlin, how are you feeling?"

He gave a wan smile. "Tired."

"I suspected as much, Arthur making you carry all of those – all of those…" She suddenly cut off with a gasp and staggered back.

Arthur suddenly shot to his feet and steadied her while Merlin sat bolt upright again, causing his headache to increase tenfold. Trying to ignore the pain lacing through his head, he called out,

"Gwen?"

Arthur gently lowered her to the ground, and to both his and Merlin's confusion she put a hand to her mouth where she muffled a sob. She reached out for Merlin then thought better of it, and placed a hand to her heart.

"Merlin," she said in a choked voice, "I'm so sorry."

Merlin gave a confused smile. "For what? You are not to blame for my condition."

"I remember. Morgana. The boy, Daegal. The poison. I – I – I…"

Arthur's confusion grew even more as Merlin's expression turned to one of horror…and panic? Why would Merlin be panicked? And what of a boy and poison?

"Gwen," said Merlin gently, "that wasn't your fault. It was Mor – "

"I assisted in the murder of an innocent boy!" cried Gwen. "And I nearly killed you and Arthur. Morgana said you shouldn't've have survived, that it would've cause you unbearable pain..." she broke off in a sob.

Merlin, for one, dearly hoped she never remembered when she tried to poison Arthur.

"What…?" said Arthur at a loss, looking from Merlin to his wife. "What shouldn't have Merlin survived? Merlin, what happened?"

"N-nothing," replied Merlin nervously. "Just something Morgana did. Gwen, _listen to me_," he said. His tone was so forceful that Gwen looked up, slightly shocked. "What happened – everything that happened – none of it was your fault and none of us blame you. When we saw you in the woods with Morgana, we knew you were enchanted because you are too loving and kind and loyal to even _consider_ betraying your people and your friends. Morgana, _she_ is the one who holds the blame. What she did to you was unforgivable. This, all of this, was _her_ doing. _Not yours_."

Gwen gave another small sob, then suddenly lurched forward and enveloped Merlin in a hug. He hugged back and they stayed like that for a few moments before she pulled back and searched his eyes. She put a hand on his shoulder and said thickly,

"Thank you, Merlin."

Merlin smiled and nodded. "Get some rest, Gwen."

She nodded, kissed Arthur on the cheek, then made her way back to her bed roll. Arthur then turned to Merlin, who had lied back down.

"So what happened?" he asked curiously.

Merlin then sighed and proceeded to explain what had happened with the poison and the boy, Daegal. After Merlin had told his tale, Arthur sat back, stunned.

"Gwen told me you were out to see a girl," was the first thing he said.

Merlin raised an eyebrow, impressed by the half truth. "I suppose I was." Arthur raised an eyebrow. "Technically, at least. Daegal wanted me to help his younger sister. And then Morgana showed up. So, yeah, I suppose I did see a girl while I was out."

Arthur snorted and patted Merlin's shoulder. "I'm going to get some sleep. I suggest you do the same."

With that, he moved to wake Mordred while Merlin turned over, trying to get in a more comfortable position and trying to hike the blanket further up his body. Just as he was about to drift off to sleep, he felt someone approach him, and realizing that there was only one person who was up at the moment, he sat bolt upright and faced the former druid who was sitting next to him and regarding him curiously. Merlin was instantly set on alert.

"Arthur's a lucky man," Mordred said after a silence.

"He is," Merlin agreed, still suspicious.

"Not just to have Gwen," Mordred said, speaking softly, just in case the others were still awake, "To have you."

"He'll find someone else to do his chores soon enough."

"It was hardly a chore," the knight said. Then he lowered his voice even further. "That was your magic back there, wasn't it?" Merlin was silent. "Have no fear. I will not divulge your secret." Then, he said something that surprised Merlin, "I admire you. It can't be so easy to do so much for so little reward."

"I do not seek a _reward_," Merlin all but spat at the knight.

"Recognition, then."

"No, my friends are safe and well, that's all I require," replied Merlin. He lied back down in his bedroll, realizing that there was no immediate threat from the knight.

"You see, Merlin, we do have something in common after all," said Mordred. Merlin clamped his mouth shut, determined not to scream into the night what was on the tip of his tongue.

"The future of Camelot," said the knight. He sent Merlin a quick smile, then moved to the other side of the camp to keep watch.

Merlin did not sleep that night.

* * *

**A/N: If there are a lot of mistakes, sorry. It was not Beta'd nor was it proofread. If you spot any errors, feel free to point them out to me! And I would really appreciate it if you reviewed! It might just inspire me to update my other story faster! :D**

**Next oneshot will be posted for April Fool's Day! :D**

**~theAnonymousParadox**


	3. What Have You Done?

**A/N: Hey guys! Happy April Fool's Day! Hope you guys got the shit pranked outta you!**

**This is a shorter one, just another little something that popped into my head. I hope you guys enjoy it!**

* * *

King Arthur, in all his glory, stared down at the kneeling prisoner shackled before him. He was very aware at the silence of the room, growing tenser and tenser depending on where you stood. If you stood to the left of the king, where his wife and the High Knights were, then the anxiety in the air weighed heavily, though if you stood to the left of him, there was an almost indifferent air about the room. As if the people who stood there only attended because they were required to.

Arthur supposed that they must have been used to this. After all, his father had done this many times before. Too many times, if Arthur were to be honest. But to be fair to the people on his right, it had never been a friend before. Well, a close friend at least.

The king was very aware of his queen fidgeting next to him, casting scared glanced between the prisoner and the king. Arthur was also aware of the knights - especially Gwaine, whose hand rested atop his sword and was glaring at the king as if he wanted to rip him apart limb from limb.

He was also extremely aware of Merlin, the prisoner before him. His head was bowed so Arthur could no longer see his expression. But the man was shaking, terrified.

"Merlin of Ealdor," announced Arthur, startling both Merlin and a few other court members who had grown used to the silence. "You have been found guilty of the crime of sorcery. Do you deny it?"

Arthur noticed all the fear drain from Merlin's eyes to be filled with sadness and despair. The former manservant then looked up at his king, his misery-filled blue eyes also filled with something else, something like…anger…or frustration. Arthur couldn't quite put his finger on it.

"No, I don't deny it," Merlin said quietly.

"Then you give me no choice – "

"_Me_?" Merlin interrupted with a bitter laugh. Arthur could have sworn his face was wet. "_I _give you no choice? You, Arthur Pendragon will _always_ have a choice." He glanced over at Gwen. "Sometimes it's just easier to think that we don't."

"I have a choice, as does a sorcerer," said Arthur. "So,tell us, sorcerer. Why? Why the _hell_ would you betray your king and your kingdom. Why would you betray your friends for the evils of magic?" The king narrowed his eyes and leaned forward, both wanting and dreading to hear Merlin's answer.

The anger and despair seemed to build up in Merlin's eyes before it boiled over and he shouted, "FOR YOU!" There was a shocked silence in the room as every eye rested on the sorcerer, wanting to know more.

Merlin was breathing heavily, trying to hold in his tears. And as Arthur looked at him, he saw a man that had lost everything. A man that was finally naked and bare and vulnerable after years in sheep's clothing. A lost man. A lost friend.

"Everything I did, all that I've done, I did it for you, Arthur. For no one else. You have no idea how much I've sacrificed for you and your bloody kingdom!"

"How dare you?" Arthur said in a menacing voice. "Sorcerers are evil. They seek only for themselves and to wreak havoc on the world."

"And tell me, Arthur," said Merlin quietly. "Do I look evil to you?"

Whatever Arthur had expected him to say, it wasn't that. He hesitated for a moment, a brief moment, and hope flashed in Merlin's eyes. Seeing that hope, Arthur snapped himself back to reality and replied,

"Sorcerers are evil and foul. They bring only pain and sorrow."

In his words, he only heard his father. And he didn't know if he liked that or not.

Merlin stumbled to his feet and guards came forward and pointed their spears at him, ready in case Merlin decided to attack their king. But he made so move to do so. Instead, he focused on Arthur, seemingly blocking everything and everyone else out.

"Arthur, do you know who I am?" he asked softly.

The king didn't expect a dagger of sorrow pierce his heart. This was like Morgana all over again. Except this was worse. Far, _far_ worse.

"I thought I did," he replied.

Merlin flinched, but barreled on, "The Druids call me Emrys. They have…prophecies about me. I am…" Merlin drew in a breath and there was a flash of fear in his eyes, as if he feared the very words he was about to say. "I am the most powerful warlock to ever walk the Earth."

There was a moment of silence. No one moved or spoke, or breathed. Jaws locked. Eyes shifted. Fear consumed. Awe radiated. But Arthur simply sat back in his throne, dumbfounded, trying to process what had just been said. His first reaction was to laugh and call Merlin and idiot. Merlin the most powerful sorcerer of all time? The idea was laughable! Besides, what would the most powerful man on Earth be doing working for a "prat"? Merlin and powerful just didn't go together as well as Merlin and whimsical did.

But then he noticed the naked, blunt look in Merlin's blue eyes. It was the look of a man who was telling nothing but the truth. Not half the truth, not a twisted truth, but the whole, plain truth. And it was the look of a man who feared that very same truth.

"I can raze kingdoms with a few words. I can kill a dozen men with none. I could break out of these chains without a thought," said Merlin, lifting his wrists and shaking his manacles. He paused, then added with the smallest of smiles, "And though you can kill me in one blow, I can kill you with less than that."

Arthur felt dizzy. He felt dizzy and sick and exhausted. He wanted to go curl up on his bed and lay there forever. He wanted the marble floors to swallow him and suck him into their depths. He wanted to reverse time. He wanted to wipe his mind clean of this horrifying, horrifying revelation. He was so confused and yes, afraid. Because, no matter how much he wanted to deny it, his friend stood before him, shackled in chains, awaiting his death sentence.

But that wasn't the reason he was afraid, not really. Arthur had in chains the most powerful person that would ever live. He was more powerful than Morgause or Morgana, and much more powerful than him, and maybe even the whole Camelot army.

"Arthur," said Merlin, his piercing blue eyes looking into Arthur's very soul. "If I wanted to kill you, I would've done it a long, long time ago. Or better yet, I would've just left Camelot for a week and let all of the sorcerers and assassins kill you. Or, if I wanted evil and terror as you say, I would've helped Morgana take Camelot from you. But I did the opposite_. I helped you to take it back_."

Arthur let out a shaky breath, thinking on Merlin's words and running a hand through his hair (and almost knocking his crown off his head in the process). Merlin was right. If Arthur had to pick the person he trusted most - if he was truly honest with himself – he wouldn't pick his father, or Morgana when she had been good. He wouldn't have picked Leon, or any of the knights for that matter. Hell, he wouldn't've picked his own wife.

He would've chosen Merlin.

Because Merlin was always there. Always. Whenever Arthur woke up with a pounding headache and blurry vision, Merlin was there. Whenever Arthur was getting attacked by something magical or vicious or both, Merlin was fighting along next to him. Whenever Arthur found himself as a fugitive, watching as his own sister took control of his kingdom, Merlin was right over his shoulder, offering comic relief and sage advice, often at the same time (Merlin was the only one who could possibly do that).

And though he would never admit it, Arthur loved Merlin, he really did. But it was a different love than what he offered Guinevere. This was a brotherly love, a bond, you could say. Arthur regarded Merlin as his younger brother. He felt protective of him and shared everything with him. He felt most comfortable with Merlin than with anyone else.

And it was for these reasons that this betrayal stung the worst. It was for this reason that this wound was gushing blood and Arthur knew it would never stop. It would never scab, and it would never leave a scar. Instead, it would fester and bleed for the rest of his life. It would never heal.

The pain turned to anger and that anger heightened on seeing Merlin's hopeful expression. He felt heat flood his face as he looked once more into the face of his worst nightmare.

"Perhaps you were attempting to trick me, to gain my trust, and to use me to your advantage. Perhaps you were simply waiting for the right moment. I do not understand the minds of evil like yourself, sorcerer," the king spat.

Merlin stared up at his king. He shook his head. "Are you blind?" he nearly shouted.

"Hold your tongue!" Arthur yelled.

Merlin rose to his feet, looking at Arthur beseechingly. "Arthur, listen to me, you're not like your father. You are a fair and just king – "

Arthur rose to his feet and stepped forward threateningly. "My father was a _great_ man. Greater than you or I could ever _hope_ to be. He set on a quest to purge the kingdom of the evils of _your_ kind. A quest I seek to continue."

"Arthur, please, listen to me! It doesn't have to be like this – "

"Silence, I am your king – "

Merlin seemed to lose all patience with the man in front of him. "You prat!" he yelled. "Would you just listen to me for once in your – "

It was wrong. All of it was wrong. It was twisted, morphed into something evil, something upside-down so confusing and terrifying. But it was real. All of it. This was real, it was no dream. And Arthur's friend. Arthur's only real, most loyal, trustworthy friend was… Morgana. All Arthur saw was Morgana.

Morgana. Lancelot. Guinevere. And now Merlin.

But all Arthur saw was Morgana.

All he saw was her reign of terror. All he saw was the evil, unnatural gold-color in her eyes. All he saw was the blood she had spilled. All he heard were the tortured screams of the innocent – men, women, children.

But then silence. Nothing. Except a pair of shocked blue eyes that pain had glossed over. There was a strange ringing in Arthur's ears. There was something familiar in his hand that he was gripping like it was the difference between life and death. And there was something warm flooding over his hands – something he was all too familiar with.

Then he looked up at Merlin. He saw the pain and betrayal in his eyes. A little ways down, in the corner of Arthur's eye, he could see red. And –

Oh.

No. _No_.

A scream cut through the air. It was not Merlin's – it was Guinevere's. He could hear the tears in her voice.

And there were two shouts – one from Gwaine. Arthur knew because the shout had been a curse. The other one was no doubtedly from Gaius.

There were footsteps. Running. Arthur was being wrestled away from Merlin by someone. Who?

_SMACK_.

Ah. Gwaine. Of course. Only he would dare to punch the king.

Arthur straightened up again, rubbing his sore jaw. He was almost knocked over by none other than his own wife, who had pushed past him in a state of panic.

Gaius was there, lifting Merlin's head into his lap and instructing Gwaine to apply pressure to Merlin's wound. Gwaine was using his own cape and glancing at Merlin desperately. It was a state that Arthur had never seen him in before. The other knights, except for Morded (he was standing stock-still in the background), were shuffling awkwardly above, not knowing what to do and being too shocked and panicked to do anything.

Guinevere was crying. Just crying. Arthur had never seen her like this before except when she had lost her father.

And then everything crashed onto Arthur: He had stabbed Merlin.

He had murdered Merlin, his best friend, in cold blood.

Arthur threw the sword away. It was too blunt to be Excalibur – Excalibur was always sharp. He almost threw up – thinking about how much it had to hurt to be run through by a blunt blade.

Arthur was coward. A _coward_!

He noticed his breathing speeding up. He knew he was starting to hyperventilate, but he didn't care. All that mattered right now was Merlin.

Arthur fell to his knees and crawled over to Merlin, which only earned him a sword to the neck. Gwaine's sword.

"Gwaine," Merlin croaked, "don't." He glanced at Arthur, then offered a small smile to the knight. "He saved me from the pyre."

Gwaine looked completely horrified. "Merlin, mate, that's not funny. Don't make joked like that. Of course you're gonna live long enough to get to the pyre."

Merlin tried to laugh, but resulted in his body convulsing a little and for him to spit up some blood.

A wave of fear flowed through Arthur so powerful, that it physically hurt. He grabbed Merlin's shoulders.

"Merlin?" he called. "Merlin, don't you dare. Stay with me, you hear? Or you'll be cleaning out every single damn stable in the kingdom." Only then did Arthur register that his vision was only blurry because of tears.

Merlin's eyes squeezed shut, full of pain. "Arthur – I'm s-sorry."

"What?"

"'M sorry."

Arthur wanted to lay down on the floor, shrivel up, and die. "There's nothing to – "

Merlin's eyes flew open, and he looked at Arthur through pain and tear-filled eyes. "Arthur! I'm – _I am sorry_."

Arthur let out a sob, surprising even himself. But he wasn't focused on that. "You're forgiven, old friend. I can only hope that I am too, whether I deserve it or not."

Merlin reached out and punched Arthur on the shoulder.

Arthur held in his sob this time.

But he couldn't when Merlin choked on his own blood once more. Only once more.

Everyone in the room turned to Arthur. Every eye pinning the blame on him. But it was his wife who spoke for them.

_ "What have you done?"_

* * *

**A/N: Well, that was fun. Did anyone cry? Well, if I get enough requests, I'll make a little sequel to this. Maybe. Possibly. I don't know. It's up to you guys. So tell me what you guys thought of it in a review. Good, bad? Too detailed? More detail? To fast? Too slow?**

**Review!**

**~theAnonymousParadox**


	4. 1500 Years Later

**A/N: Hey! So this is just a random little thing that popped up into my head. This idea is left open-ended, so if anyone wants to expand it on their own, feel free, but make sure to PM me, cuz of course I wanna read it! :D**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the characters or the show.**

**Rating: T **

**Characters: Arthur, Nimueh, George, Merlin, Freya (I know, interesting combination, huh?)**

**Pairings: Freylin, mentioned Arwen **

**Warnings: light swearing, unanswered questions, may or may not be a sequel, not Beta'd or proofread (too lazy again)**

**Title: 1500 Years Later…**

**Summary: Arthur has returned, as prophesied, but where is Merlin? And what has happened to him? Will anything ever be the same? And how can Arthur and Merlin complete their destiny now?**

* * *

Arthur knew immediately upon awakening that he had overslept, he just didn't know how long he had, or what the consequences might be. But instead of waking up in his plush four poster in his chambers, like he had expected to, he awoke in a boat. A wooden boat.

Strange.

But perhaps the strangest thing of all was the heavy air of peace that surrounded him and the small island where his small boat had docked. It was warm and inviting, tempting the king to just lay back and sleep for a few days. There was a sense of belonging, and in truth, Arthur could never imagine leaving the place.

Shaking his head out of the trance he had fallen into, he tried to think back to the last thing he could remember, but it proved to be a challenge. After a few moments of hard thinking, he decided his efforts were futile and clambered out of the boat and onto the dry land. The small island he was docked on looked strangely familiar, as if he had seen it before. But where?

Then it hit him: the Isle of the Blessed. He had come here when Morgause had lured him and showed him the spirit of his mother in attempt to turn him against his father and weaken the kingdom. Thanks to Merlin's quick thinking, her plot was foiled, but –

Merlin.

Mordred.

Sword.

Merlin.

Isle of the Blessed.

Boat.

Merlin.

_Damn_.

Within seconds, the memories had returned to him and before he really had a chance to work them out, think on them, and process them, a voice rang out from behind him.

"Yes, my king. How the great have fallen. Your fall is the greatest of them all. Except perhaps for one."

Arthur immediately spun around and found himself facing a beautiful woman. She had dark brown hair, blood red lips and stunningly blue eyes that held nothing but contempt for the king. But there was something else in there as well. Was it…respect? He wasn't sure. It almost seemed as though she was being forced to work with him.

Then, he realized that, like this place, he had seen her before. She was the woman in the woods when he had gone on that quest for the Morteus flower all those years ago. She was the sorceress, the one who had tried to kill him. He vaguely wondered how she died. Because she had to be dead, if she was standing there talking to him.

"If it isn't the Last Face I'll Ever See," he greeted her. "What is it? What do you want? Where am I? And why am I here?"

"Your time has come," she answered (quite dramatically, in Arthur's opinion). "Albion's time of need has come and your coin is needed. You will rise again, and the time of Albion will start once more."

Arthur blinked. She hadn't answered his question in the slightest.

"However, your coin is nowhere near whole. One side is broken. Broken by all the sufferings he went through, all for nothing. It is now up to you, Arthur," she told him. "Emrys is no longer the servant. He gave everything he had and everything he was and he paid for it. He paid for it dearly. Now you must fix that which has been broken, or all will be lost."

"What do you mean?" he asked, shaking his head to show that he didn't understand. "What are you talking about?"

"You will return to the land of the living. You will find Emrys. And you will fix him, for without him, you are nothing. You are but two sides of a coin."

"But…but who's Emrys?" Arthur asked helplessly.

She sent him a mischievous smile. "You know."

"No, I don…," but Arthur trailed off, an image fixed in his mind, an image of a familiar secret sorcerer. He sighed. Everything always came back to his friend, didn't it? "Merlin. It's Merlin, isn't it?"

The woman nodded. "Find him. Fix him. Help him. Or all will be lost."

"Lost? What will be lost? And how am I supposed to find him? I can't imagine him going back to Camelot after my death."

The woman smiled as if Arthur had said something amusing. Then she turned and…vanished. Just like that. Arthur blinked again, then looked at the small boat. Shrugging, he clambered in, and just when he was wondering how he would move the stupid thing, it began to move of his own accord.

But halfway to the shore, things suddenly changed. It was as if he had gone through some sort of magical shield and into a different world. He felt it as a chill that ran down his spine. Mentally waving it off as nerves, he peered towards the shore.

His eyes widened as he spotted giant…metal…things. He didn't know what else to call them. They were giant metal boxes with wheels attached to the bottom. They zipped over a dirt road by themselves, without even a horse or ox to pull them. But what drew Arthur's attention was the metal. It was shinier than anything he had ever seen in his life. It reflected the afternoon sun, almost blinding him. His mind instantly jumped to the word "magic," but this time, he wasn't sure if it had a negative, positive, or neutral connotation to it.

And there was something else, something about the air. The air was thicker than he remembered it, and much warmer too. Arthur debated pulling off his chainmail when he realized…he had none on. Instead, he wore a black tunic over some strange blue trousers. They seemed to be of very fine quality and he wondered where he had gotten them.

Eventually, he came to a stop on the shore in front of one of one of the large, black, shiny, black boxes. He was about to ask the man standing in front of it a question (he didn't know what question; perhaps he should start with: which way is Camelot?) when he realized he recognized the man. He was standing up straight and proud, staring straight ahead, at attention, as if waiting for an order. The man was wearing a strange assortment of clothes: a white collared shirt, a black jacket, black trousers, and a strange knot at his throat. It kind of reminded him of a flower. When he spotted Arthur, he bent forward in an elaborate bow. The king wished he had a goblet.

"Sire," said George. "It's been a while. The Lady of the Lake and the High Priestess have restored my life for a small amount of time, given that I show you what the world is now like."

Arthur tried for a smile, though he was very aware that it probably turned out as a grimace. Well, at least that was one problem solved.

"Of course," Arthur replied. "You can tell me all about it on our way to Camelot."

"I'm afraid that is not possible, sire," he responded, still staring straight ahead. Arthur wondered what would happen if someone were to tell the man he wasn't looking proper enough.

Then the words registered. "Excuse me?"

"I have direct orders, sire," said George. "And it is no longer physically possible to return to Camelot."

Arthur didn't like the sound of that at all. "What on Earth are you talking about?"

George seemed to deflate, his posture sagging so he no longer looked the perfect servant. His tone was resigned. "Perhaps you should get in the car."

Arthur frowned. "The what?"

George stepped back and gestured at the black, shiny box. "This is called a car. I'll explain on the way. Why don't you get in?"

"The way? The way to where?"

George went over and opened a door, revealing the lush interior inside what Arthur had dubbed "car." The former manservant glanced at his king and replied, "Your estate, of course, sire."

* * *

This "estate" that Arthur apparently owned was nothing more than a manor. Arthur wasn't used to manors, and by his previous living experience, this one was tiny. It had only about a dozen rooms total and the grounds didn't even deserve to be called "grounds."

And on top of that, the manor was dirty and musty, as if it hadn't been lived in for several hundred years. So, Arthur couldn't even live in his tiny manor. Instead, he resided in a "hotel" with George. This hotel was filled with many extravagant things, but also many things he had no knowledge of – like a "microwave" and a "refrigerator." And it was small. Even more so than the bloody mini manor.

Arthur also found that this hotel also housed many other guests, people whom he had no relation with. Some would smile and glance at him, a few women sending him suggestive smirks.

And oh, the women.

When Arthur had first seen them, he had thought he had stumbled into a world full of prostitutes and for a moment, he had no doubt why Albion needed a king once more. Really, the women here wore little clothing at all. They wore trousers so short that there was little left to the imagination. And some of their shirts looked as if a griffin had sliced down the middle, revealing far too much of their breasts. Arthur saw not one woman in a dress that day.

George, seeing his expression, had patiently explained that this was now the fashion and that it was not dishonorable for a woman to wear clothes such as those. He also explained that it was also not dishonorable for an unwedded woman to bear a child.

Then the manservant launched into explanations of women's rights. These rights allowed them to own land, have a voice in the government, vote (for what? A Prime Minister, of course!), and other things. Arthur, for one, had no idea if he should be appalled or impressed.

The idea that women now had absolutely no shame was appalling. Where was the honor in all of this? But then again, from what George was saying, it seemed women had taken matters into their own hands. It seemed that women were proving themselves to be just as capable as men, even fighting alongside men in wars (Arthur's eyes widened when George mentioned this. "_What_?! What if they were to be injured? What happened to chivalry?")

George also attempted to explain new inventions that had come about while he had been sleeping on the Isle. There were obviously cars, "airplanes," "cruise liners," "trains," "computers," "the internet," "cellphones," "phones," "television," "Americans," and a few other things that went completely over his head.

And after about two weeks of solid studying and learning, he was able to go out into the world without George at his side (thank the gods…). And though he would sometimes get confused on what certain objects were for or what certain terms meant, he now knew enough not to be given a strange look. Arthur took that as a huge accomplishment.

But one day, George loaded Arthur in his car and decided to drive him somewhere. He wouldn't tell Arthur where they were going, claiming it was "a surprise," and the former king had a sinking feeling that it had something to do with brass, which was still George's favorite conversation topic.

"Where are we going?"

"I'm afraid I can't tell you that."

"Where are we going?"

"It's a surprise, my lord."

Arthur suddenly perked up, an idea of where they might be headed, presenting itself. He turned towards his manservant eagerly. "We're returning to Camelot, aren't we?"

George suddenly had that defeated look about him again and Arthur felt himself go cold.

"What is it?" he asked, dreading the answer.

George took a steadying breath, his eyes locked on the road. "I'm afraid you won't like what I have to say, your grace."

"Spit it out, George," Arthur snapped.

George closed his eyes for a moment, only a moment. "Camelot…is no more, sire."

Blind, confused panic muddled Arthur's thoughts. "What? Surely you must be mistaken."

George shook his head. "Sadly, I am not, my lord. Camelot is nothing more than a myth in the minds of men. A kingdom that exists only in tales passed from father to son. Your kingdom, our Camelot, fell shortly after your queen died, roughly one thousand, five hundred years ago."

Arthur felt dizzy. He had never asked how long he had been dead because frankly, he didn't want to know. Because of all the new technology and inventions, he had guessed that he had been dead for a while, but his estimate would have been around three hundred years. But one thousand five hundred years? That, that was just…

And Camelot was gone. The kingdom he had tried so hard to build was gone and long dead, along with its people. He had died, left his widowed wife to rule, and then the kingdom fell. He put his head in his hands, letting a small anguished groan escape from his throat.

"Have no fear, sire. I think I have something that may lift your spirits yet."

Arthur looked up at his manservant with a doubtful expression. "Really? And what could possibly do that?"

"That is where we are going sire. Somewhere where, hopefully, faith in yourself can be restored," replied George.

Arthur narrowed his eyes. "I have plenty faith in myself."

"I have no doubt, sire," he answered automatically.

Arthur rolled his eyes and resumed his gaze out the window, letting his thoughts wander. He had little time for that, however, as mere moments later, they pulled into a parking lot of what looked to be a library. The former king turned to his manservant.

"A library?" he said, an eyebrow raised. "You've brought me to a _library_?"

"Oh, you haven't seen anything yet, my lord," George assured him with a self-satisfied grin. He gestured for Arthur to lead the way. With a roll of his eyes, the king did just that. Together, they entered the small library where George instantly took the lead, Arthur following bemusedly on his heels.

A few minutes later, the man seemed to find the isle he was looking for and beckoned for Arthur to come forward. He held an arm out, gesturing to the mass collection of books.

"My lord, I present you a collection of books all retaining to the Arthurian Legend."

It took a moment for Arthur to process what George had just said, and a few moments more to put together that his name, Arthur, and Arthurian sounded awfully alike. Not daring to believe it, he looked around with wide eyes.

"What – what…?" He cleared his throat and asked in a more dignified tone, "These legends…what do contain?"

George was watching the king fondly, something that Arthur found slightly disturbing. "They speak of a land of myth and a time of magic," he replied. "They speak of a great kingdom called Camelot, the chivalrous Knights of the Round Table, and a King Arthur, the mightiest of them all. To this day, sire, your legacy lives. And it will not fade so easily from the minds of men."

Arthur eyed the books dazedly in front of him. He cautiously stepped forward and ran a finger down the spine of a book that was titled, "The Legend of King Arthur." A book, about him. The thought was believable, considering that he was a king. But this many years into the future? One thousand years? The thought was dizzying and humbling. With a small huff of laughter, he realized that he must've done _something_ right.

He was about to pluck one of the books from the shelves when something out of the corner of his eye waved out to him. He looked up, glancing at the marker labeling the section "Arthur." Next to it was another section, labeled, "Knights of the Round Table," and as Arthur looked, he recognized the names of all the knights he had had, and a few that he didn't. Arthur noticed a few other sections: "Scandal," "History," "Culture," and finally… "Merlin."

This section intrigued Arthur, since it was just as large as Arthur's own section. It was also slightly astonishing that there had been books written about Merlin, seeing as how he was only Arthur's manservant. In his last days, it had been revealed that Merlin had been a sorcerer all along and had fought and sacrificed everything for Arthur and his kingdom. And Arthur also came to realize that, really, he hadn't been the one to make all the tough decisions. Instead, it had been Merlin. The fate of the kingdom had ultimately fallen down to Merlin, because Merlin could've wiped it out or taken it from Arthur any time he wanted, really. Yet he thought he, along with maybe three others had been the only people who had actually known of Merlin's secret abilities. He had no idea that Merlin would become this famous, this well known, and from the looks of it, liked.

Well, he reasoned, it wasn't all that hard to like Merlin. In fact, he admitted, it was kind of hard to _dis_like him. Merlin had always been so open and honest and himself (well, he supposed, not entirely) and happy. His bright smile could light up a room and cause the maids in the room to swoon. Merlin went bumbling along, acting his idiotic self, yet there was something endearing about it all. Merlin was a friend you wanted to hold onto forever – which wasn't that hard because once you earned a place in Merlin's heart, he would go to hell and back for whatever you so much as desired.

Hesitantly, he opened a book up and flipped to the first page…and laughed. Merlin was depicted as an old man, the same man on the hill at Camlann. It was actually quite amusing to see his best friend in long, dress-like robes and a long white beard. Oh, when he found Merlin, he would never let him live this down.

"I was supposed to find him…," Arthur suddenly remembered.

"Forgive me sire?" said George, placing a book back in its proper place and turning to give Arthur his utmost attention.

"Merlin," said Arthur, no longer mumbling. "The woman on the Isle. She told me I needed to seek him out…or all would be lost."

There was something on George's face at the mention of Arthur's greatest friend that scared him. It was almost…sadness? Pity? He wasn't quite sure what it was, but it scared Arthur right to the bone.

"What?" he asked quickly. "What is it?"

George opened and closed his mouth, then seemed to finally decide on what to say.

"My lord, there is something you may want to know."

"Well then…? Spit it out."

George swallowed. "The Arthurian Legends are legends for a reason. They were first written down a thousand and a half years ago by our very own Geoffrey of Monmouth. But over the years, the legends have been translated and passed down from word of mouth, twisting and disfiguring the tale so that it was nearly unrecognizable. In most versions of the Arthurian myth, it says that Merlin was trapped in a tree or a cave by Morgana (in reality, it was a cave) and died there, which was the ultimate cause of your doom. However, Merlin was not killed by Morgana."

Arthur nodded. "I should know. I was there when he slayed her."

George sighed. "Sire…what I'm trying to say is…Merlin…he never died."

Arthur furrowed his brow in confusion, not entirely sure what the other man was getting at. "I don't understand."

There was a silence while George stared at the floor, looking extremely uncomfortable. "Sire…the Druids call Merlin 'Emrys.' This name means 'immortal' in the old tongue, and… Merlin lives up to that legacy."

If George kept doing this, he was going to give Arthur a heart attack, or a mental breakdown at least. Arthur simply stood there, staring at the bookshelves in front of him, but not really seeing them. Instead, his mind was focused on his friend, possibly the kindest, gentlest, sweetest, most honorable man to ever walk the Earth. What had the lad done to ever deserve this? Arthur couldn't imagine what it would be like to live for a thousand years, to watch the endless cycle of life and death, to watch the brutality that was the human race. To Merlin, it must've been ten times worse. Merlin's life centered around his friends. He'd rather die a thousand times than to stand by and let an innocent person suffer.

Something clicked right then. Merlin was a strong man, stronger than even him or any one of the knights. But he couldn't handle this. No one, no matter how strong, all powerful sorcerer or not, could ever withstand that kind of torture. All these years alone must've taken its toll on the man. And though Arthur tried his best to deny it, he knew it would've broken him long long ago.

Suddenly, the woman's words seemed more important than ever. He turned to his new manservant wide-eyed, wishing it were Merlin who stands there, not George.

"We must find Merlin."

George nodded grimly.

* * *

They searched for three months, going from town to pub, to village, to city. There was no sign of Merlin.

What Arthur had dubbed "the Manor" had finally been restored, and though Arthur still thought it small, he couldn't help but admit that it was lavish. It even had its own collection of books on the Arthurian legend, which Arthur couldn't get enough of.

It was strange enough to read a collection of books centered around yourself, but Arthur soon discovered that George hadn't been joking when he had told Arthur that the legends weren't all that accurate. In fact, it seemed like the only things the legends managed to get right were the names. And sometimes, even those were a challenge.

But the one thing that bothered Arthur the most was his "affair with Morgana." Now that was truly disgusting.

After reading an entire book on that, he slammed it shut and threw it across the room, rubbing his aching and abused eyes. Getting to his feet, he hurried from the room, grabbed a coat, keys, yelled something to George about going out, and practically ran to the car.

He drove for a few miles, not really sure where he was going. Spotting a quaint park, he stopped, got out, then collapsed on a bench, watching as the children played on the playground.

He sat there, lost in thought for a while, thoughts usually always returning to two people: his beloved Guinevere…and Merlin.

Emrys. The Immortal.

Then something distracted him. From out of one of the nearby neighborhoods, a young couple came running, holding hands and laughing too much to really be running all that fast.

The young man, who couldn't have been older than twenty-two, tugged on the girl's hand, effectively stopping both of them. They laughed for a bit, saying a few things that Arthur couldn't hear from where he was watching. Then, they pressed their heads together and shared a short, chaste kiss. They then held hands again and the boy walked the girl to a car. They talked for a few minutes more before the young girl entered the car and drove off, waving to the boy who waved back. After she was gone, the boy shoved his hands into his jean pockets, and still smiling, started down the small path. He was now at an angle where Arthur could see his face.

The king nearly fainted.

Merlin looked everything he used to be, except of course, for the fact that he was now wearing different clothes. He was wearing a blue shirt under a ridiculous, but somehow fashionable red scarf. He wore dark trousers and a brown hoodie and brown trainers. But Arthur was not focusing on his clothing in the least.

He looked the same, which brought tears to Arthur's eyes. He had an idiotic smile on his face, the same that could light up any room or make just about any girl fall for him. He walked with that same walk that was guaranteed to get him to trip at least three times a day. He had those same ridiculous ears that resembled that of a monkey's. But the thing that really made moisture spring to his eyes was the eyes. Those same deep blue orbs that shone with innocence and curiosity, but with a hint of wisdom and sadness.

As if in a trance, Arthur stood up slowly from the bench, still staring at his friend who still hadn't spotted him yet. Slowly walking around the bench, he approached Merlin, still walking and staring as if in a trance, but getting faster as he got closer to the young man.

Before he knew it, he was running.

"Merlin!" he yelled, tears blurring his eyes (though he would never admit it, even on pain of death). Then, surprising even himself, he threw himself onto Merlin, wrapping his arms around the young man who had gone stiff as a board. He clutched his friend to his chest tightly, seeking his comfort. He needed something real, something from his past life besides George. He needed something familiar. He needed an old friend, someone to poke fun at him, someone who could assure him that he wasn't mad – then proceed _drive_ him mad. He…he needed Merlin.

He pulled back and gripped Merlin by the shoulders. He smiled at his old friend.

"Idiot," he said fondly.

Merlin stared at him in a mixture of shock and confusion which Arthur figured was only disbelief and denial at seeing Arthur alive and well again. Arthur shook him slightly.

"Well, are you just going to stand there like a bumbling fool, _Mer_lin?"

Merlin blinked, the shock now completely gone, replaced by confusion and alarm. Arthur stepped back automatically, thinking that he had hurt the young warlock in some way.

"Merlin?" he asked hesitantly. He tensed, ready to catch his friend if he decided to pass out on him.

Merlin, looking thoroughly confused, shook his head. Arthur felt his heart sink in dread, but the next few words Merlin said completely broke his heart.

"Um, sorry, but…who are you?"

* * *

**A/N: I know, I know, you hate me:) I'm just evil like that. As mentioned before, I'm not sure if I'll do a sequel to this...it was just something I had in my head… Hope you guys liked it!**

**Until Next Time,**

**~theAnonymousParadox**


End file.
